✍🏻 Writers in the Areaaaaaaa ✍🏻 discussion
Share your writing
date
newest »
newest »
Thanks! 😊 I haven't got any finished works and I'm not doing any serious work on a book so I've been doing quite a few writing prompts lately.
Mod
Wait that's sooo cooll
This is a little something I wrote! The prompt was an unreliable narrator who is dreaming :) The thoughts are italicized but idk how to do that on hereI've been here before. The marina looks awfully familiar. The smell of salt in the air brings back foggy memories. There was a boy last time. I look up from my seat and the waterfront cafe and there he is. I suck in a breath. He is stunning. His fluffy dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes are almost recognizable.
"Hey! Long time no see!" Long time no see? When had I seen this guy? I can't remember. He pulls me into a hug and I let out a startled squeak. His chest is hard. The hug seems strangely intimate.
"Mind if I sit here?" Before I can answer he slides into the chair across from me.
What is happening?
We chat for hours but time passes by quickly. Am I dreaming?
"Let's go swimming. There's a small beach nearby." I get up and follow him towards the water. He pulls off his shirt and jumps in the water. He's gorgeous.
I take off my shorts and tank top realizing I have a bikini underneath. I hesitantly jump in.
We swim for hours before laying on the shore.
"I missed you," he says. Suddenly he's leaning in and just before our lips touch, I jolt awake.
This is just a journal entry from June, when I started my self teaching journey in the writing craft. I was depressed, in a way and I needed to reallign my goals. Here it is, mostly unedited:The beginning is difficult. It starts all the way down there, at the bottom, in the dark, with all the voices telling you that nothing you're doing is good enough. Want a punch? It's not. You aren't good enough yet. You just thought you were the genius who'd ride through picking up lessons like ripe fruit.
No.
You start in the desert. Or the barren land with all your flaws on your back, surrounded by the beautiful gardens of your neighbours. Dry soil and cracked earth. Just you and a pile of dirt. Maybe your sweat can help you prepare the soil to be tilled by your un-worked hands? I'd say your spit if your mouth wasn't so dry from swallowing your pride.
It's almost laughable how immortal you are when you crave death. You bake in the sun for days before realising it's only been 24 hours and you'll live to suffer another. Do you envy your neighbour's garden? The plan you drew up doesn't mattter now. The rules have changed. Ambition killed you-made you starve on your wasteland and kept it barren. Now it's time for survival. Whoever has what you need, is the person that can help. In the end no hands will do the work but your own.
Clear the soil, plant the seed, fail, start over; weed this time, hurt yourself, watch it all die; start again, and look at that first small bud. This kind of victory will help you do it for love. You could grow this whole garden- nurture it in health- because of the hope of seeing that first green, little sprout. Do you even remember why you took this less comfortable journey to begin with?
Why do you do this? To live another person's dream and become them?
Why do you write? Why?
-End-
I'd love to know why you guys write, too. I still tell myself two things to stay focused and aligned with my goals:
1. Stop trying to sound competent. Just tell the story.
2. There's not much to tell, if I'm not trying to say anything.
I really hope to help people with stories one day. But I'm on the way to learning how to do that better 😆
Mod
Or can we also do writing prompts? 😃